Bamba Blindside

He didn’t even speak Spanish…

Last night, I saw a movie about Ritchie Valens. That Rock n’ Roll pioneer.

I’m not a rock star. Perhaps, I’ll never be. But, as a passionate music lover and semi-pro musician, hanging out with a couple of Mexican friends who love Ritchie’s music, I felt connected to “my roots.” I felt like I was learning about my history.

Why it hadn’t registered in my head that it was Ritchie Valens, the original “La Bamba” guy, was one of the people who died in Clear Lake, I’m not sure…

“The day the music died.”

Watching the movie, all that I knew from the exposition of the film, and from my friends, was that Ritchie was the “La Bamba” guy… but then, when the film showed a guy with glasses about to board a plane during a snowstorm, and a big fella who vaguely resembled a guy whom I vaguely remembered from a video clip of “Chantilly Lace” that I’d seen about 10 years ago, it suddenly hit me… and the moment of realization and shock pressed on me almost as if it had just happened…. Valens was getting on a plane with Buddy Holly… and the Big Bopper*… oh my lord… no… the day the music died…

*Note: Talk about “stealing black music.” Listen to “White Lightning” recorded by the Big Bopper. Just… wow.

And Waylon Jennings could’ve been on that plane. For those who follow me on Twitter*, you got a tease of this entry. To think how those guys, Waylon for example, used the time that they perhaps could’ve never had… If life isn’t random sometimes, explain to me how a coin toss gave us Waylon, Shooter, etc. Try to imagine country music history with out the name Jennings. Then try to imagine rock n’ roll history with more Ritchie Valens. Either result of the coin toss gives us a major plus, and a major sadness.

*Shameless plug: @mapnmusicman

Now, think of the music that we’ll never get to hear form Ritchie. He was a hell of a guitar player. We got Waylon. In a way, from now on, when I hear Waylon’s music, I feel like I’ll be hearing a piece of Ritchie, of Buddy Holly, of the Big Bopper.

I’d been wondering, off and on, about the mystique of things that will never be but could’ve been… what if Mickey Mantle (baseball reference, kids) hadn’t drunk away a good chunk of his health and gotten knee problems? What if Ritchie Valens hadn’t died? Now, I think that I understand… It seems that there’s a personal connection to the loss of the glorious things that could’ve been. We are all united in this loss. It always feels new and fresh. I could hardly get to sleep last night… the power of that realization, and to lose Ritchie, and the fact that there was a little miscommunication when one of my friends told me that the actor was still alive and I misheard him and thought that he meant that Ritchie was still alive… The death of the hope of seeing Ritchie somewhere in his old age crushed me, and thinking about all of the great music that he could’ve made… Perhaps he would’ve learned Spanish and, today, there’d be more blending of Mexican and White music. Perhaps he would’ve flamed out after a couple more hits… But, his guitar ability makes me think not. RIP Ritchie. To me, you just died. Thank you for the music.